


You're Burning Up (What)

by elegantstupidity



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Unresolved Romantic Tension, parks and recreation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/pseuds/elegantstupidity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy wasn't sure how he got stuck with the flu-ridden Parks lady, but he guessed there were worse ways to spend the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Burning Up (What)

Given the fact that Bellamy Blake, in his capacity as State budget specialist, had studied the public health records of Camp Jaha, Indiana, he probably should not have been so surprised at the magnitude of its yearly flu outbreak. 

But, there he was, completely taken aback at the flu's ability to knock an entire town flat on its back. And by entire town, of course he meant one particular, blonde, pain-in-his-ass resident of said town. 

It all started that morning.

(Well, the flu had been going around for weeks and apparently no one in Camp Jaha took flu shots seriously, leading to this near-epidemic. And then, the fact that he was even in town at all, when he really hadn't spent more than eight weeks in one place in years, could be traced back to a decision made by his superiors months ago. Really, if he was going to go that far back looking for blame, then he might as well skip back twenty-seven years to go to the source: Mr. and Mrs. Griffin. That was just semantics, though.) 

His immediate problem started that morning, when he'd been dragged to another breakfast meeting by his blonde pain in the ass, Clarke Griffin.

(Bellamy had never before met someone like Deputy Director of Parks and Recreation, Clarke Griffin. Her unabashed passion for her hometown and her desire to protect it from state-appointed budget specialists were first infuriating and then endearing to said budget specialists. By the end of the government shutdown, Bellamy had been picking fights with her for the hell of it. He was pretty sure she'd figured him out by the third argument he instigated, but that didn't keep her from taking the bait every time.)

Usually, their breakfast meetings were nominally called to discuss something about the resurrected Harvest Festival, but really served as a means of getting Clarke her waffle fix for the day. This particular meeting's topic was sponsorship possibilities for the Festival. Though she'd ordered her customary waffles and whipped cream, Clarke didn't inhale it with her usual gusto. In fact, she'd looked a little green when the plate was put in front of her.

When asked if she was all right, she'd simply responded she wasn't "feeling herself," which Bellamy didn't really need to be told. Although they'd only known each other for a few months, Bellamy and Clarke understood each other shockingly well. Bellamy took her answer at face value, though, and promised to meet up with her that afternoon to further hammer out logistics for their presentation at the Chamber of Commerce. 

After that, Bellamy went about his day without sparing her a second thought. Third and fourth thoughts didn't count. 

Now, he found himself wishing he'd been more insistent at breakfast. 

He'd been walking down the hall towards the Parks and Recreation office when he heard yelling. That, in and of itself, wasn't so unusual. Most days, it seemed like yelling was the preferred method of communication for everyone in the office. 

Judging by the noises leaking into the hallway, though, this was somehow different. 

"I swear it's allergies! Guys, let me in!" That was Clarke, sounding tired and exasperated, which, again, was pretty standard. 

This was followed by a quick chorus of "No!" sounding oddly tinny. Were they on speaker phone? What the hell was happening in there?

"Clarke, you're tired and you're so sweaty it looks like you haven't showered in days. Go home." There was Spacewalker. Bellamy wasn't sure why they kept him around except as a verbal punching bag. 

"You always look like you haven't showered in days! What's your excuse, you wanna go there, Finn?" Clarke snapped back.

Bellamy finally turned into the office to see what the hell was going on. Predictably, Indra's door was shut with its curtain drawn. It was impossible to tell if she was in or out.

(Come to think of it, Bellamy was pretty sure he'd never even met the woman.) 

Clarke huddled at her desk, in the process of being swallowed whole by a puffy, down coat. She shotgunned a package of Emergen-C dry and sat surrounded by used tissues.

Across the office, everyone else had gathered in the glass-walled conference room. He saw Spacewalker, Monty, Jasper, who was inexplicably wearing yellow rubber gloves and lab goggles, Lincoln and--

"Octavia?" Bellamy asked, incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

His little sister grinned and tossed him a wave. "Hey, Bell. You kept talking about this place, so I decided to come check it out. Did you know the Director needed an assistant?"

Dazed, Bellamy shook his head. He couldn't have talked about Camp Jaha's municipal government all that often, at least not enough to make his little sister want to explore City Hall. Although, he probably had been talking about it a lot during their daily check ins before she got into town. Well, not it. He definitely had complained an awful lot about a certain Parks lady when he first got this assignment. 

Clarke interrupted before he could wrap his head around his sister's presence in the Parks and Rec office. Ignoring, or not even registering, Bellamy's entrance entirely, she said, "That's it, I'm coming in."

She lurched away from her desk and stumbled towards the glass room.

Panicked, Jasper shouted, "Lincoln, barricade the door!"

The giant of a man rolled his eyes, but stood anyway with his hand against the glass of the door. 

Feebly pawing at the door, Clarke whined, "C'mon. Just let me in, Lincoln." The man didn't budge. She leaned against the door, hoping to force it open, but Lincoln's sheer bulk kept her at bay. 

"Go home, Clarke," Monty tried kindly. 

"Or go back to quarantine!" finished Jasper.

"I'm not going home! There's too much work to do!" Upon seeing that her coworkers were not going to give in, Clarke turned back to her desk. Before she made it, though, she came up with her revenge. She turned to the conference room to ensure everyone could see what she was doing. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she stuck out her tongue and licked a quick stripe up her palm. Then she wiped her spit and germs across Finn's desk. 

"Aw, c'mon!" the man protested. 

Resolutely, she went back to quarantine. 

Immediately, everyone in the conference room turned to Bellamy. 

"You've gotta get her out of here, man," Jasper implored. 

"Maybe I'd believe you if you didn't look like you were about to cook meth," Bellamy returned, wondering who kept rubber gloves in the office. 

"I'm not risking contamination from that!"

"Can you try and get her to go home and rest?" Monty asked. 

Because it was Monty, Bellamy considered it. 

"She seems pretty sick, Bell," Octavia said, grinning slyly. "I bet she'd appreciate it if you took care of her."

There were no waggled eyebrows to accompany her statement, no innuendo-ridden inflection. Still, Bellamy had lived twenty-five years with his sister. So, he willed himself not to react to her taunting, especially when Jasper and Monty exchanged significant looks.

He rolled his eyes and said, "I'll see what I can do." He really needed to stop venting to Octavia.

Approaching Clarke's desk carefully, Bellamy tried to figure out how he could possibly get her to leave when she insisted on staying so adamantly. He'd learned from experience that getting Clarke to do something she didn't want to do was essentially impossible without an endless supply of whipped cream. And dammit if he hadn't left his can at home.

As he got nearer, she finished putting on a scarf, but still shivered pitifully. 

Figuring his best bet would be to pretend he hadn't seen her banishment to quarantine by her officemates, Bellamy asked, "Are you going somewhere? We have a meeting." Clarke finally looked up at him and he was taken aback at how sick she really looked. How could this have happened in a few hours? 

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Just cold."

Bellamy doubted that. Her cheeks and forehead were flushed, hair clinging damply to her skin. And her normally bright eyes--"Are you all right? Your eyes are glassy." Not the way he'd imagined first bringing up her eyes in conversation. Not that eyes were something he would talk about with his friends. Coworkers. Workplace proximity associates. 

"I'm not sick!" she practically shouted, though he hadn't technically asked. He figured everyone she'd talked to today already had. "It's just allergies. I took a Claritin and I finally got it to stay down, so I'll be fine."

Taking a risk, Bellamy moved around her desk to a lay a palm against her forehead. "Princess, you're burning up."

Leaning fractionally into his hand, she drawled, " _You're_ burning up. What?!" She grinned up at him brightly before her face crumpled up as a wave of nausea or pain or  _her right mind_ washed over her. 

And okay, ordinarily if Clarke said something that sounded even remotely like a come on, Bellamy would have no problem teasing her mercilessly about it. But the woman was obviously sick, and he wasn't going to hold it against her. (Which didn't mean he wouldn't thrill over the moment in private.)

"Clarke, you need to go home," he tried as gently as possible.

"I can't go home, Bellamy! There's too much work to do for this Chamber of Secrets meeting."

"Commerce," he corrected automatically. It was probably concerning that she didn't seem to care about the difference, but the girl did love her Harry Potter. Once they'd moved on from squabbling over the city budget, they'd argued literature. 

"We need to get as many local businesses to pledge their support tonight as we possibly can. If we don't nail this meeting, the Harvest Festival is dead in the water. I can't let that happen!" She frantically started shuffling through the mess on her desk. 

Resigned, Bellamy asked about the next best option. "If you won't go home, can I take you to the doctor? Who is your doctor?"

A look of pure peace washed over the worn out blonde. "Raven. Raven is my doctor."

* * *

"I'm a PhD. In mechanical engineering. You've met me and know that I am not an actual medical doctor. How the hell did you let her talk you into bringing her here?"

Raven, suffice to say, was less than pleased to open her door to a frazzled Bellamy and a sick, loopy Clarke. 

To be fair, Bellamy had known that Raven wasn't the kind of doctor who could help Clarke out, but what could he say? That he'd been charmed when Clarke whined about how hot she was and peeled off her gigantic coat before insisting he wear it instead? That he'd been too distracted when she curled into him as he supported her through City Hall? That, even sick, Clarke Griffin was probably too headstrong for him to withstand? He could say those things, but they probably wouldn't make Raven be any nicer to him. 

Upon arrival, Clarke had made a beeline for Raven's couch. She was slumped there, her posture for once less than perfect. She looked between Bellamy and Raven with a confused frown. "Don't be mad. I told him that you were the most beautiful doctor in the world," she said, as if that explained everything. 

Raven rolled her eyes, but left to look for a thermometer. Bellamy hovered by the door, unsure of what to do now that he'd actually gotten Clarke to Raven. He hadn't made up his mind when the mechanic returned with one of those ear thermometers. She held the device wordlessly out to her friend, but Clarke just stared at it blankly before looking up at Raven for explanation.

Raven sighed, completely upon. "It's the phone, Clarke. Michelle Obama really wants to talk to you."

Eyes lit up at the prospect of speaking to the actual First Lady of the United States, Clarke grabbed the thermometer and put it up to her ear. Raven descended swiftly, making sure the tip was properly placed and pressing a few buttons. Bellamy was impressed. Clarke was not really the type of woman to be handled, but Raven did it so smoothly. He wondered if he would ever--Nope. Better not to wonder about his future in conjunction with Clarke Griffin.

Luckily, they didn't have to worry about Clarke removing the thermometer since she had been practicing the speech she would give Michelle Obama upon first speaking with her since she was nineteen. Of course, this speech was Variant G.57 as they were speaking on the phone, but no one would say Clarke Griffin was underprepared. She'd only got about thirty seconds into questions about the woman's fitness routine when the thermometer beeped. It was enough of an interruption for her to pause, which was enough time for Raven to take the thermometer back.

"Where did the First Lady go?"

"She had a meeting to attend," replied Raven blandly, checking the readout. "Griffin, you have a temperature of 104.1. I would put money on you being dehydrated. You should go to the hospital."

First Lady forgotten, Clarke groaned. "Ray, I'm not sick. If I were sick, could I do this?" She proceeded to sit completely still, an expectant smile on her face.

After a moment, Raven sighed. "What are you doing?"

"Backflips," Clarke replied gravely. "Am I not doing them?"

"Not at all."

Clarke slumped further into the couch, her failure to do literal backflips apparently enough to convince her she was sick. Bellamy could see the rising panic in her eyes as she thought about all the work she was going to miss. He stepped forward to crouch in front of her. 

"Look, don't worry about the Chamber of Commerce meeting."

"Secrets," she corrected a little vacantly.

"Right," Bellamy drawled, exchanging a glance with Raven. "I've given plenty of these presentations before and I'll have everyone in the office on hand to help out. You should just worry about resting up and getting better." He paused and then clarified, "At the hospital."

"Not the hospital," Clarke complained with more vigor than she'd managed since sitting down.

"Why not the hospital?"

"Jesus, Griffin," Raven cut in. "Stop being a baby and go see your mom."

Clarke just groaned and Bellamy was thoroughly in the dark. 

* * *

Getting Clarke to the hospital was another fun exercise in absurdity. He'd had to tell her they were going for waffles before she'd agreed to get in his car. 

She'd settled in without complaint. Then: 

"Thanks for letting me keep working. I really need to finish this stuff myself. It's not that I don't trust you," her head lolled to the side so she could look at Bellamy. "It's that I don't have faith in you." Her head lolled back so she could press her forehead to the cool glass, eyes closed. "And I'm starting to forget who you are."

Bellamy did his best not to take it personally. He'd long known how obsessive Clarke could be about her work. Of course she didn't trust anyone else to do it properly. Still, that didn't completely soothe the sting of her confession. 

Pulling up to the hospital, Clarke took one look at the building and tried to make a break for it. Fortunately, it wasn't that hard to run down a flu-ridden twenty-seven year old in a hospital parking lot. Bellamy didn't literally carry her into Urgent Care, but it was a close call. 

Dr. Abby Griffin was summarily called and in mere minutes, Clarke was admitted and whisked away to a private room. Bellamy was thanked for his trouble and pretty much shoved out the door. It was something of a comfort to know that Griffin women were generally cut from the same cloth. 

He spent the rest of the day going over projections and timelines to prepare for the meeting that night. Jasper and Monty, who he'd been planning on making help, disappeared sometime in the afternoon, so he was left with Finn. Octavia had also left by the time Bellamy returned and Lincoln was gone, too. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to contemplate the disappearing staff of Parks and Recreation with all the organizing he had to do. Trying to make sense of Clarke's fever-induced notes was hilarious but ultimately unhelpful. He would really have to ask her what "Cage can eat a mutant deer" and the accompanying skulls meant when she felt better.

With a basic outline complete, he was interrupted by the phone ringing.

"This is Bellamy Blake."

"Okay, so let's talk about your opening remarks," Clarke opened, not bothering with pleasantries. "What are you going to say? Should I write you a rap? I'll write you a rap. But can you pull it off? You're pretty dorky. Maybe a show tune instead?"

Bellamy was stunned. He wasn't sure how he _didn't_ plan to be interrupted by a bed-ridden Clarke Griffin now that it had happened. Before she could list off more musical styles, he cut her off. "Clarke. I'll be fine. I was just planning on introducing myself. Non-musically. Then, I can direct everyone to their packets and it'll be smooth sailing."

"No! These meetings are never smooth sailing! We need to go over every contingency plan! Right now!"

"Princess, you need to relax and get some rest. This is not going to implode without you hovering."

There was a pause as Bellamy could swear he heard the gears of Clarke's mind turning. "I have wonderful news! My doctor is here and he says that I am cured and can go to this meeting."

"Uh huh. And what's your doctor's name?"

"Dr... Door..cup. Dr. Doorcup."

"Yeah? Doorcup? That's the name you're going to go with?"

"That's his name," she defended huffily. "He's very sensitive about it."

"Well, then may I speak to Dr. Doorcup?"

There was a pause and then, "Sure." After a rustling sound much like the phone being smashed against her bedding Clarke returned, failing to disguise her voice very well. "Yes, this is Dr. Doorcup and Clarke has made a tremendous recovery. Almost miraculous! So, she will be able to attend the Chamber of Secrets--"

"Commerce."

"Dammit!" Clarke sighed, resigned. "Can I bribe you?"

"Goodbye," he replied and hung up. 

He'd thought that was the end of it. To humor Clarke, he'd worked up a few contingency plans that he could show her when she felt better. One was what to do if the nuclear apocalypse arrived in the middle of his presentation. He thought it was funny, at least. 

Everything went smoothly until it was time for the meeting to start because of course it did. With a few minutes to spare, Clarke marched into the hall, eyes still glassy, but determined more than anything. 

"Bellamy Blake!" she called, smoothing down her hair. "Hello!"

"Uh, hi, Clarke," he began.

"So nice to see you," she greeted, trying and failing to act inconspicuous. She shook his hand vigorously.

"Oh, wow. You are really burning up, aren't you, Princess?"

She ignored him. "Can you go out and pay my cab fare?"

"Sure, how much was it?"

"I don't know," she admitted, frowning. "See, when I looked at the meter, I think everything was in hieroglyphics." She brightened a bit, "Oh, you're a nerd! You probably know the exchange rate."

Depositing Clarke firmly on a bench at the back of the room, Bellamy rushed out to pay her cab. The whole way he wondered how exactly she'd managed to spring herself from the hospital. When he got back inside, he found Clarke feebly feeling her way along the wall. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, already resigned that she was going to present at this meeting whether he liked it or not. 

"The floor and wall switched," she responded, utterly serious. "You have to walk very carefully."

Gingerly taking her arm to lead her up to podium, Bellamy admitted, "It's hard not to be insulted when you are doing everything you can to keep me from speaking at this thing. Do you really not trust me?"

She swayed and leaned heavily against him. "I do trust you." Warmth bloomed in his chest, furious and bright. But Clarke was still talking, so he ignored the feeling. "And, it's not that I don't want you to do it. It's that I want to do it. This Harvest Festival could make or break my career, and I need to make sure that I am doing everything I can to make it a success."

Oddly lucid for the fevered ramblings of a sick woman. Still, Bellamy had to admire her tenacity. 

About halfway up to the podium, Clarke stopped and murmured, "Show time." She turned so she was speaking directly into his chest and began, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Clarke Gorilla and this is The Price is Right!"

"Maybe try a different opening line, all right?" Bellamy grinned down at her. This close, he could feel the heat radiating off of her and knew he would end up driving her back to the hospital as soon as this meeting was over. 

Clarke frowned at his suggestion and ambled up to the podium. On the way, Bellamy caught sight of Monty and Jasper, sans protective gear, schmoozing with four older guys. 

"Jasper, go introduce me." Clarke demanded.

Jasper grinned and nodded. Before he bounded away, he said, "Oh! Monty and I got some of the car dealership guys to donate an entire fleet of vans for the whole Festival!"

Bellamy didn't want to know how they'd struck that deal, so he let it go for now. Instead, he turned to Clarke one last time. "You really sure you're up to this?"

"I was born ready," Clarke replied levelly. 

Looking back, Bellamy wasn't sure how he'd ever doubted her. As soon as she stood behind the podium, it was like a switch was flipped. She became the charming, passionate civil servant he knew. Her speech was way better than anything he could have prepared because she was right. Clarke was born to do this job, to take care of her town. She had the whole room captivated. By the end of her speech, Bellamy would have been surprised if she hadn't convinced everyone to participate. The only hitch came after the politely thunderous round of applause when Clarke tried to field a few questions. 

Her first answer was less helpful than she might have thought, "Well, sir, I would have to ask why your face now looks like a Van Gogh painting."

Bellamy managed to intervene and took all the questions while Clarke went off to slump in her chair. Once the questions wound down and everyone started to leave, Bellamy turned back to his blonde pain in the ass. Her head had fallen forward and it was clear that she was dead asleep. Since she couldn't be all that comfortable, he didn't feel that bad waking her up.

She awoke exclaiming, "Tell the Commander--!"

"Easy, there, tiger," Bellamy soothed. He hauled her up, holding onto her shoulders when she swayed. "That was amazing, but let's get you back to the hospital, okay?" 

Clarke simply nodded, all the fight drained out of her. Thank god that getting her to the hospital was less of a production this time around. She fell asleep again in the car, so Bellamy gave in and just carried her inside. 

* * *

The next morning, Bellamy returned to the hospital to check in on Clarke. On the way, he picked up some waffles in case she didn't feel like his special chicken soup or hospital food. Walking through the hospital with both, Bellamy felt some embarrassment at his transparency, but he really wanted Clarke to feel better. He knocked on her door and waved a little awkwardly considering the boxes of food he was holding when she looked up. 

"Hey."

"Hey," she sighed, smiling wide. 

She was sitting up in bed and already looked less terrible than she had the day before. "You feeling better?" he asked, at a loss.

She nodded, lips quirking up. "Yeah."

He nodded back, still feeling awkward, "That's good." 

"What have you got there?" She looked at the containers in his hands curiously. 

"Oh. I brought you waffles courtesy of the diner and chicken soup courtesy of me."

Immediately, she reached for one.

"I'll take the waffles. Thank you." She had the box open before he could even process what happened. He clutched his Tupperware of soup as she dug into her breakfast. "How did the meeting turn out anyway? I don't really remember anything past getting into the cab from here."

"Well," Bellamy drew out, unable to resist teasing her a little. "You said we needed eighty businesses to sign on, right?"

"Yeah," she answered, looking doubtful at his tone. 

"We got a hundred even. And more will sign on when everyone hears about who already agreed." Her smile was brighter than he'd ever seen, proud and giddy. "Nice work, Princess," he smiled back just as brightly.

"Nice work to you, too. And stop calling me that." 

He just laughed in response. Bellamy could tell her that she didn't once tell him off for calling her Princess yesterday, but he'll keep that piece of information to himself for now. He couldn't really tease her for something she'd done under the influence of her fever. 

"All right, well, I should head out. I'll leave the soup for you here," he said, putting the container on her bedside table, "just in case. It's not a big deal. It's just an old family recipe. Or whatever. Anyway." Bellamy could feel his ears burning as he walked to the door. He needed to find his chill, and fast. 

He spun back around at her voice. "Thank you for that."

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and nodded before finally leaving her in peace. 

As Bellamy walked to his car, he thought about the conversation he'd already had with his bosses this morning. They'd been ready to send him out on assignment again now that Camp Jaha's financial problems were under control. He'd hedged, getting them to agree to an extension, claiming that there were still loose ends to wrap up. Now that Octavia was in town, that was just one more reason to stick around for a while longer. 

He really wanted to see what this town had in store for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the great episode "Flu Season." 
> 
> I kind of feel bad tagging this as Bellarke because I had no intention of them even touching that much, but the heart wants what the heart wants. And okay, Clarke is a ridiculous mess, but I think we can cut her some slack y/y?
> 
> Also, I'm apparently incapable of writing for canon? Let me know what you think?
> 
> EDITED: 7/19/15


End file.
